


CSMC: Miami - Jenson Campbell and Winthrop

by skimo



Series: Courtland Street Chronicles [7]
Category: General Hospital
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-09-23
Updated: 2013-09-23
Packaged: 2017-12-27 09:58:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 22,917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/977421
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skimo/pseuds/skimo





	1. Chapter 1

It’s an adventure more than two plus years in the making. The American Bar Association Annual Meeting. Unlike the Olympics they are held every year, but like the Olympics the logistics of gathering that many people in one city and get them to hotels, meetings, training, even dinner dances is a full time occupation for the planners. Picking the city, making sure that they could accommodate the number of participants, that the transportation hub is up to the task. It is herculean. This year the Annual Meeting would be held in Miami, Florida. The Miami Convention center would be the main venue with many of the attendees staying at the Hyatt Regency which is attached to the center. Other than making contacts and socializing, the primary thrust of every annual meeting is the continuing legal education tracts. This is not only an opportunity to put yourself forward as an expert in an area of practice but also to learn from the best what is going on with the world. 

There are going to be a number of key speakers but this year is going to be especially interesting. Alexis Davis-Smith is going to be speaking. This is going to be a first, the first in a long time. She isn’t one for drawing attention to herself and had been roped in with much effort. For the last fifteen years, Alexis Davis has been a name that people might know but she doesn’t put herself forward. Instead she pulls the strings from behind the scenes.

The Patriot Act, GitMo, CIA prisons in eastern Europe, Southern Law Center, Amnesty International– Alexis Davis doesn’t have any other job. Her only employment is her passion-- seeking out the truth about a person’s incarceration and if it’s unjust rectifying the situation. Alexis is suspected of making it work, using whatever method available her. She preferred using the law... but if those in power are not following the law and would rather kill a judge than overturn their decision or release those wrongfully detained well then there are stories of her using... other methods. The other methods would NOT be discussed at the keynote she would be giving. She would be discussing instead the legitimate ways of shining light on the problem: the press, international resources, eager law students, friends and family of those incarcerated, tortured or missing. Alexis practices out of a small city in upstate New York called Port Charles. She’d be happy to have just her laptop, a law library and quiet. She could work anywhere but her daughter lives in Port Charles and her husband is a senior Vice President in ELQ. 

Port Charles has it’s share of very good attorneys mostly clustered in one law firm– Jensen, Campbell and Winthrop. It’s a firm that has grown quickly but carefully over the last twenty plus years. It had started as five rooms in a small building, to taking over the building, to moving on to a floor of a building that takes up a city block in Port Charles to taking up multiple floors and employing hundreds. The advantage of being in Port Charles is that the firm can stick together as they had for the last two decades, where as if they’d been in a bigger city they would have probably been forced to split up the firm as it became more specialized. 

Dara Jensen graduate of the University of Michigan then Harvard law school, former assistant district attorney, domestic counsel for Karinen International both the business end and the foundation. She’d made her name by writing a tight contract. Because of her criminal law experience, she is comfortable in a court room and in front of juries. She could make the complex simple-- common sense really. Once she’d switched to civil litigation, Dara seldom lost if it got as far as court. Alexis Davis had been her early nemesis but once they started working two different spheres of influence they’d become allies rather than adversaries. Dara had in fact taken over Alexis’s practice when Alexis has been under doctor’s care for over a decade. Dara’s specialty is family owned businesses. Of course the families are Cassadine, Karinen, Quartermaine, Radcliffe, Ashton, even Jacks on occasion. 

Gia Campbell, graduate of Port Charles University and Law school specializes in entertainment law. As the former Face of Deception, modeling had paid her way through school. Some might have underestimated her strength of will or judged her by the small school which she had attended rather than her Ivy league experiment at Columbia University her freshman year. She’d stayed in modeling long enough to know it was not going to be for her but the money would pave the way for whatever she wanted to do. Working first for Alexis Davis, Yale, and then for Dara Jensen, Harvard, she’d received an ivy league education without the bill that went along with it. 

Her first client had been a professional football team, the Port Charles Stallions. Then she’d switched over to the other side-- to the athletes, the artists, the entertainers. She’d started making the entertainment and even the general press when she represented Dillon Quartermaine the first time one of the studios had tried to screw him out of his backend cut of his first oscar awarded movie. Gia had written that contract and written it tight. The studios had tried to treat it like their typical boilerplate. They’d learned to the tune of MILLIONS of dollars you didn’t fuck with a contract written by Gia Campbell and you didn’t mess with her clients. Gia isn’t as good in a courtroom as Dara, she is actually too beautiful and alienated women on juries but the cameras loved her. She could try her cases in the press, in the court of public opinion and win every time. It made her very popular with the entertainment press and court TV outlets. She is a frequently sought opinion to inform the public on cases that have made the press.

Even though he’d done his stint in corporate law and owned his own publishing company at one point ,Cass Winthrop, a midwest transplant from Bay City, Illinois specializes in family law. He does the nuts and bolts: the prenups, the adoptions, the wills, the trusts and the divorces. Between Dara and Gia’s clients he could work full time just keeping up with their odds and ends but he also brings in the business through the divorces he handles. That brings his client’s other legal issues to the firm.  
Both Gia and Dara hate child custody cases with a passion. They aren’t his favorite either but he’s good at them, very good at them. He’d ended up writing a lot of case law in that area with emphasis on child’s rights in a divorce. He’d even managed to write a book with Casey Marcos, a retired child protective services agent, and Cameron Lewis, a psychiatrist, on navigating the mine field of a divorce from the standing of the child. The book had ended up being a strong seller not just to lawyers but to the general population. He’d ended up on talk shows with his partners on the book– Casey and Cam. It had brought all of them into the limelight.  
More than once when one of Gia’s clients had burst into the office in a tizzy of tears and fury, Mary Taggart, the office manager, somehow always got stuck with the babysitting while the parent was in with Gia. Mary would give the child a dollar and tell them to go to Cass’ office. She’d even had business cards with really big letters made up for the children so they didn’t have to know how to read just know their letters in order to hire their own attorney. That way the child would have the best family attorney in the firm and if everyone involved is very lucky the child’s attorney who would end up running the divorce. Somehow Mary had just figured out things ended up more civilized that way. 

With the triumvirate of Dara, Gia and Cass at the top, they each have a staff of attorneys below them. If there’s a legal issues then Dara, Gia and Cass would be their resource. But the manager of the firm is Mary Taggart. If it isn’t a legal question then it’s hers. Because she is so good at what she does, Dara, Gia and Cass can still practice law rather than practice running a firm. It’s one of the reasons why even though Mary isn’t a lawyer she is going with the partners to the ABA conference in Miami. She would be attending some workshops as well to see if there is anything new in the running of law firm.

For the trip to Miami, Edward Quartermaine has loaned them the use of his private railcar. It wouldn’t be as fast as taking a plane but it would be a hell of a lot more comfortable, the food would be better and they could bring their spouses. So Alexis and her husband, Gia and her husband, Cass, his wife and his daughter Charley (also a lawyer in the firm) are all go along with Dara. Dara has been married to her career for a lot of years with a little time off for dating– an appalling practice. With Cameron Lewis along, as well as a few others there are no worries about making sure the numbers balanced out. It gave everyone time to decompress from the office and prep for the seminars they’d be either giving or attending.

* * *

“...there is nothing greater than the feeling when the jury comes in the way you wanted. Especially when your case was either weak or technical and it was the smooth talking that got you through. Ah when it gets scary is when you’ve got an innocent client... an honest to God above he didn’t do it and at that point everything you do takes on the magnification of the world. Even when you feel like you did everything absolutely right and they are still convicted... what then? What then? What is a day in your life worth when you can’t get it back?” Alexis paces the railcar as she runs through her opening remarks. Zander watches his wife proudly as she paces the car. He’d set up her powerpoint presentation for her. Alexis may not have wanted to do this but since she is, she’s going to use it as a recruiting opportunity. “What do you do when you weren’t the one in the courtroom... you didn’t get the chance to make the remarks, you’re coming after reading newspapers, transcripts, letters from loved ones. And that’s what happens when you’re lucky.” Projected up on the wall behind her are faces of men and women in custody all over the United States, Canada and Mexico. “Lucky because there is recourse available. Unless of course they’re dead... but that is being covered one level down and...” Alexis makes a motion with one hand as if counting. “... three rooms over.”

“Good one, hon.” Zander nods. “Sorry. Keep going.” He calls up the next picture. This time it’s pictures of people around the world. This is Amnesty international’s watch list. Just a few years ago Josef had been on this list. They hadn’t been able to get him out as soon as they would have liked. But they had been able to put on enough international pressure that Josef had made it out of the Russian penal colony alive– sick but alive. It had been a nail biter for Baby who is as much a control freak as all the other Cassadines. Tasha had been the one reassuring both her and Baba, letting them know Josef would be released as soon as there was a change in power at the top and then praying she’d been right.

“You get the proof and you get it in front of the right person and your guy has a good chance of getting out. And then you run into defending someone with an unpopular idea. There are lots of unpopular ideas in the world. Some people think there should be fair elections...” Alexis lets the pictures run behind her. Some people think there should be a free press... free speech. Some people think the food should be getting to the people rather than the military. Some people think their bosses should be living on their salaries, not the kickbacks from foreign investors. Some people even think twelve year old girls and boys shouldn’t be servicing tourists... no matter how much money the tourists bring into the country.”

“You did make sure this isn’t going to be shown over lunch right, Tash?”

“Yeah, it was a condition of me doing it. I’d get to say what I want the way I want... and nothing too close to meal time. Where was I?”

“Bring into the country...”

“Right.” Tasha nods and taking a breath moves on to her next talking point. She isn’t pacing now that she has the power point going. The pictures provide her with reinforcement of her speech. Every face is familiar and picked to move her on to the next like a mnemonic the face triggers the next point. She’d be able to do the speech without the powerpoint but it would be a hell of a lot harder and she’d have to refer to notes.

* * *

In another part of the car, the same thing is going on with a different topic. This one is about dealing with the issues of child custody. Cass is not doing this one alone. He has his wife Casey and their co-collaborator Cameron Lewis there to share the wealth. Because of the book they’d already been told the session would be well attended. The organizers called Mary and told her their room had changed based on the pre-sell of the seminar. The conference center was going to be moving a few walls and adding about 75 more chairs. Casey named their seminar– Step in and be the grown up. It’s a seminar about the collateral damage in a divorce– the kids. Cam comes at it from a therapist’s standpoint. Cass comes at it from a legal tactical standpoint and Casey comes at it from the most cut throat point of view of all. What constitutes abuse? In her opinion, and it’s one shared by Cass and Cam, the scorched earth policy of a lot of nasty divorces is child abuse and that is the point that she wants to make to all of these divorce attorneys. Get your divorce, hate your ex but be a grown up because single or married you’re still somebody’s parent. It’s not anything that everyone doesn’t already know. But it is something they sometimes forgot. According to Mary Taggart most of the attendees scheduled for this seminar are actually family court judges who see the damage on a daily basis.

* * *

“Oh this is nice.” Mary Bishop Taggart sighs as she takes a seat by the window. They are going down the entire eastern seaboard in the course of a day. Passing through DC, Newport News, Charleston... some places she hadn’t been since she was married to Connor all those years ago when she’d been a soldier’s wife moving from duty station to duty station.

“Isn’t it?” Dara eases back in the most comfortable chair in the house on rails. “This is Edward’s lounge. All the comforts of home. I take that back. Not my home but the Quartermaine mansion.”

“How did you manage to get him to go along with this?”

“I think Karin and Twink might have intervened on our behalf. There are benefits to being those girls’ godmother.” 

“And a lot of work as well.” Mary adds wryly. More than once Dara had ended up getting involved to tidy up a mess when AJ and Lydia were on the other side of the world. And the thing is Twink and Karin were never the bad guys... they just had a very interesting habit of tilting at windmills and the bigger the windmill, the more they tried for it. “So I saw the lectures you’re going to... Miami vacation, Dara?” Mary teases. 

“Guilty as charged.” Dara agrees with a nod. “Took the easy A’s, coach. I plan on go to the most tabloid of the offerings and then heading to the beach or maybe to the race track. What is everyone else doing?” 

“Cass and Alexis are both doing their last minute run throughs. Gia is in her suite with the do not disturb sign out.” Mary quirks a smile at her sister in law’s antics.

Dara shakes her head. For the first part of her marriage, Gia’s husband had been the one traveling most of the time but seasonally. As soon as Gia’s traveling for her career had increased, her husband had been getting closer and closer to retirement. And luckily Gia’s mother in law had been more than willing to step in and put her foot down with the kids. Gia had married a man who lives in fear and adoration of his mother and Gia’s children feel the same way about their grandmother, their TuTu.  
As soon as Jesse had gotten over his rookie year mistakes, he’d seen what was right in front of him and spent what time wasn’t on the field courting Gia. They married about the same time as Gia quit representing the Stallions and started representing the talent– with Jesse as one of her first clients. Jesse’s wedding present to Gia had been house plans and a piece of land just inside Port Charles city limits. Gia’s present had been handing the plans back to the architect and telling him there had to be a mother in law apartment in the house. Leilani still has her house in Hawaii; she spends from ProBowl until the day after Mayday there, missing most of the awful northeast weather.  
Gia’d always gotten on better with her mother in law than with her mother. She realized early on Leilani’s presence meant she could focus on her career when needed and trust her private life would still be standing when she got home at the end of the day. Florence Campbell had shown up now and again claiming credit for Gia being a lawyer and a good one. She’d dissed Jesse as being just an athlete, claimed the children were underachieving and that Gia should be pushing them more. That had been the last straw. There had never been a formal blow up between Gia and her mother but the welcome mat had never come out either. And if Flo happened to be in town visiting then she was staying at the Port Charles Hotel.

“I may be taking a vacation but I swear those two are taking a honeymoon.” Dara comments.

“It’s sweet. And of course I shall tell Marcus all about it.” Mary quips.

“Oh it’s the doghouse for the big guy. Between Jesse being the perfect husband and Gia making sure every cop she runs into tells Marcus that she got all the brains in the family... Poor Marcus is going to put a heatpump in that dog house and maybe some berber carpet.” Mary has been good for Marcus in a way she never was. There is a little bit of regret there as there is for any old boyfriend, especially a good one, but it was a long time ago and the water under that bridge is long gone.

“Marcus’ only flaw is Gia does look better on camera and definitely knows how to say exactly what she means. But I’m okay with that. I married a cop. I just count my blessings that he was willing to take a desk job... ever.”

“What are his retirement prospects looking like?” Dara knows how much Mary worries about Marcus. He might be the top cop in Port Charles but he also did ride alongs with his uniforms and with the detectives. He’d still show up at crime scenes. He knew exactly what his people were doing. IAD had never had such slim pickings. When your boss could show up on any day on any shift and do your job with you... well it made it very difficult for dirt to set in. Jason Morgan still does business in Port Charles as does Kristina ‘Baby’ Ashton but show Marcus respect and do their dirt somewhere else. Baby had also on more than one occasion dropped a perp and all the evidence on the PCPD doorstep. Anyone crossing her got a first shot of confessing their sins to the cops. Dara had realized the pattern dating all the way back to Patience Dillon. The system would have their shot, and if the system couldn’t handle it then Baby would. Kinda like Tasha and her efforts to clean up the world’s prison system.

“He’s looking for his replacement but he’s not going to quit until he finds them. I know he’s looking. He’ll come home and tell me... This looks like the one, hon. But then it never quite pans out.” Mary doesn’t know if it is really then not panning out or Marcus not being ready to retire yet or both.

“Maybe we’re going to have to find the replacement, Mary.” Dara suggests.

Mary tilts her head to the side and nods consideringly. “Maybe.”

* * *

The ring of the cell phone is unexpected and definitely unwelcome. Jesse groans as he sees the name on the caller ID. There are only a few people who have the cell phone number and all of them had to be answered. If it would have been ten minutes earlier it wouldn’t have mattered they wouldn’t have heard the phone ringing but there is no excuse since Gia is up getting bottled water for both of them anyway. “Your brother is on the phone.” He holds up the phone but doesn’t answer it.

“Oh you have got to be kidding me.” Gia takes the phone while it’s still ringing and tosses Jesse a water. “You have got to be kidding me.” She repeats but this time to her brother. “I’m on vacation– my first real vacation in years. You know all about it; your wife is with us.”

“You go to Hawaii every year.”

“That’s pro bowl. It doesn’t count. Why Marcus? Why?!”

“Thought you’d want to know Leilani and Junior were arrested-- let me back up there a second, they were detained over in Syracuse.”

“Excuse me... I must have heard you wrong.” Gia looks at her husband. “Did you just say my mother in law and my baby have been detained... by the POLICE?!”

Marcus now has Jesse’s attention too but with the cell phone it’s hard to hear what his brother in law is saying. He replies. “Campus security-- PCU vs Syracuse. I got a call from one of the Syracuse local uniforms who knows Junior is my nephew. I’m on my way to Syracuse now.”

“I don’t believe this.” Gia shakes her head. “Where the hell are we?” She looks out the window at the lush green vegetation and a road that runs parallel to the tracks.

“No clue.” Jesse answers. He’d been busy afterall. “Not near an airport that’s for sure.” He has his cell phone out and is calling his mother’s cell.

“Who is calling please?” A male voice comes over the cell.

“The son of the woman whose phone you’re holding. Put her on... please.”

Please does go a long way. “Gimme a sec.” The person hands the phone to Leilani.

“Hello?”

“Mom?” Jesse asks inquiringly.

At that point Gia grabs his phone and shoves hers at him so he can talk to Marcus. “Mom, what happened. Marcus called us and said you and Junior had been detained. He’s already on his way. Have you been arrested? Do you need a lawyer? Are they real police or rent a cops?”

“Gia hush.” Leilani demands. “I’m fine. Junior is fine. It’s all a misunderstanding. Marcus shouldn’t have called you.”

“Of course he should have. If he hadn’t I would have killed him when I got home. Is Junior there?”

“Junior, yur muddah wanna talk at you.” Leilani hands the phone over.

“Yeah?” The voice is hesitant knowing he is about to get reamed.

“What in the hell did you do that Tutu got arrested?! So help me gawd if your grandmother ends up spending the night in jail because of something you did...”

“It was an away game, Ma. It never would have happened at a home game. Coach is used to Tutu coming out on the field.”

“What did you DO?!”

“They were double teaming me. Pulling some cheap sh... stuff. I got tired of it and I pushed back. Tutu saw what I did.” Junior admits. And he isn’t really surprised by his grandmother’s actions. She’d raised him to be a gentleman and play by the rules... thing was Tutu didn’t wait until it was convenient or polite. She dealt with infractions when and where they happened and always had. The first time he’d gotten pulled out of a game by Tutu had been back in Pop Warner. Tutu had walked out on the field holding her hand up to the ref and pulled him out of the game by his shoulder pads straight to the car in a double time march.

“Damn it, Junior! That’s it! It’s eleven against eleven. If two of them are on you then that means someone is open to the quarterback. The only thing retaliating gets is penalty yards and evidently your Tutu arrested!”

“Ma, I got arrested too!” Junior protests the unfairness of his mother’s tirade.

“If it wasn’t trying to make sure they weren’t arresting your grandmother then you’re spending the night in jail! Give the phone back to your Tutu.”

There is a brief pause and then Gia’s mother in law is back on the phone. “Gia.”

“I am so sorry, Mom. I can’t believe... I’ll make some phone calls. I know the head of the law school there. As soon as I get hold of him everything will be cleared up. Please, please, please don’t let Junior do anything else stupid.”

“He’s a good boy, Gia. He does know just because the bait is in front of him doesn’t mean he has to bite.” Leilani says it not only for Gia but also for Junior who flushes and stares at the floor. “I’ll call you when we’re leaving.”

“It will be soon, Mom, I promise.” Gia vows as she says goodbye. She is already reaching for her address book. She gave enough seminars at Syracuse to have the home, cell and office number of the head of the law school. This is going to be settled right freaking now.

* * *

“Your mother is going to have one of her friends come down.” Leilani closes the phone and hands it back to the campus security boy who had given it to her.

“Great.” Junior takes a seat and stretches out his size 23 EEE cleats in front of him. “A friend of mom’s, coach, Uncle Marcus– we can throw a party.” He sees the look on his grandmother’s face and brings his shoulders up. “Sorry.”

“Might as well get the paperwork out of the way.” The security officer takes a seat at and cues up his computer. “Last name?”

“Kahanalua.” Junior answers, without prompting he starts spelling it.

Tabbing over to the next field. “First name.”

“Junior.”

“First name?” The campus security repeats.

“Fine. Kalikohemolele.”

“You have got to be kidding.” The cop stares at him in disbelief. “How do you spell that?”

“J-U-N-I-O-R. I’m not kidding; I was the kid who wasn’t allowed to start school until I could spell my name. Put down Junior it’s what is on the football roster.”


	2. Chapter 2

Port Charles is a medium sized city in upstate New York. It’s hot in the summer, frigid in the winter and shouldn’t be anything special. But because of the river, a lot of history and maybe the proximity to Canada there is a lot of international business that goes through it’s borders– Karinen, Quartermaine, Cassadine, Barrington, Jacks, Morgan, Ashton. There is a more than a handful of millionaires, hell billionaires, with ties to the city. 

The hospitals are top notch and well funded whether it’s General Hospital or Mercy over on the other side of town. There are clinics placed strategically around the city for the more urgency care needs. 

Port Charles University is small in the scope of things with an inferiority complex to both Syracuse and Renaissler but they still managed to make their contributions and throw out a superstar now and then whether it’s Gia Campbell for law or Michael Quartermaine for medicine or Spike Lavery for hockey. Strangely enough what PCU is actually known for year in and year out is journalism and broadcasting. Their media instruction is world class: written, radio, vid, satellite. Their jocks don’t get degrees in history or PE, but in media relations, broadcasting or journalism. There are more than a few jocks who’d gone fine arts with an emphasis on photography.

One of the shows on cable, broadcast out of PCU is called The Jock’s Table. It is actually filmed in the back room of a local rib joint called Eli’s. It’s a round table of about five people having big plates of barbecue all the fixings and talking sports. There are regulars, students who broadcast the games, coaches, refs, student athletes. Could be from the home team or the visitors. They’d had people from ESPN in the past showing the students how to get it done. They’d had Fancy Monroe on when she’d been home talking Laker basketball. This year the moderator is Mariah Radcliffe, a freshman at PCU and an amazing soccer player. The only one of Kyle Radcliffe’s six adopted kids who is going to be following ins his footsteps– first on the pitch and in the broadcast booth.

This week the guests are defensive standout, Junior Kahanalua, the PCU football coach, a sport writer from the Port Charles Herald and an intern from ESPN. The show would be edited down of course because there is going to be a lot of time spent eating the awesome barbeque. There would be beer or soda depending on preference and age. And the only things smoked at Eli’s are the meats. The voice over introductions would be added later so it’s a matter of just diving in whether it’s the BBQ or the questions.

“Junior, what the hell happened? Were you arrested?” Mariah starts off. She can be blunt; she’s known Junior forever.

“No charges pressed.” Junior starts dishing his plate from the family style set up. “Tutu was coming onto the field and security stopped her. I didn’t like the way she was being treated and I said some stuff. We both ended up down at the campus security office over in Syracuse. If the Syracuse campus cop would have known what she was going to do, they would have let her through.”

The guy from ESPN isn’t familiar with the phrase. “Tutu?”

“His grandmother.” The coach fills in. “Reviewed the tape on that one, Junior, took me twice through to see what she spotted. But I knew to keep looking.” He shakes his head. For the ESPN guy he explains. “It was the second half. Junior already sacked the quarterback four times and picked up an interception. At half time they made some adjustments started putting two on Junior and weren’t exactly subtle in their hits. It happens a lot because Junior is big and fast. Opposing team can’t score points if they can’t get out of the backfield.”

“So your grandmother was coming onto the field to what? Confront the Syracuse players? The coach?”

Coach shakes his head and swallows. He takes a sip of beer before continuing. “I’m sure she saw that it wasn’t enough to have the two on one but they were also throwing in a few dirty tricks too. But those guys aren’t her grandkids, she saw what Junior did in retaliation. It wasn’t much but it was enough. If Junior’s grandmother would have made it to the turf she would have pulled him from the game.”

“You’re kidding right?!” The ESPN guy looks at Junior in disbelief.

“Nope.” Mariah answers. “I’ve seen her do it before. Nobody knows the rules like Tutu. She’s got no problem with Junior making the opposing quarterback a smear on the turf but if Junior does anything outside the rules...”

“It’s kinda embarrassing.” Junior admits. “And then my mother found out about it. She and my dad are on vacation down in Miami. Thisclose to having them come back. I would have been dead meat. She let me have it on the phone. I tried to tell her what the other guys were doing. She didn’t care. She figures if the other team has two on me that means that there is someone free to get the quarterback.”

“That’s a good point.” Coach nods and reaches for a hawaiian sweet bread. It’d been added to the menu back when Jesse Kahanalua had his first pro bowl year with the Stallions along with Kahlua pork and HuliHuli chicken. Eli and Jimmy had scored some tickets to the pro bowl because of Jesse and had enjoyed the game almost as much as finding the best BBQ in the islands.

The ESPN guy had seen film on Junior, it’s the only reason why he’s still here at this little cable show. He thought he was just here to give a lecture over at PCU in sports broadcasting. “Are you going to come out in this year’s NFL draft?”

It’s an inappropriate question. One of those things that might be considered tampering and there is a long pause in the conversation which will be edited out because Junior handles the question perfectly.

“Not going to happen.” Junior shrugs. “My mom says no.” Most of the people at the table know the truth, he really is a mama’s boy but he’d just as soon not have it go out on broadcast, so he gives his pat answer. “And before anyone starts thinking I’m some kind of mama’s boy or something... my mother is a lawyer. Tutu or my dad would just say no and that would be it. Mom will say no and then explain why. It’s the same reason I’m at PCU rather than one of the colleges that turn out NFL players rather than graduates.”

“Ah, She wants you to graduate.”

“Hell yeah, but that isn’t it. I’m not done growing.”

That causes choking sounds coming from the local print sport writer. He chokes but starts talking. “You’re kidding. How much taller are you going to get?”

Junior shakes his head. “Don’t know maybe a couple of inches. I’m already taller than my dad– he’s 6ft 5 but Tutu tells stories about her brothers who pushed seven foot.”

“Junior’s grandmother is almost six foot.” Mariah points out. “Your mom is only about 5 ft 8 right?”

“Yeah, this is the first year she’s the runt in the family. My little sister, Melia, is taller than she is now.”

“How old is your sister?”

“Twelve.”

The ESPN guy gets back to the point. From his standpoint, and having seen tape of the guy it’s not if Junior enters the draft but when. “So your mother is using science to determine when you enter the draft. Until you stop growing you’re in school.” 

“Pretty much.” Jesse nods. “It’s growth plates and enzyme levels and all this technical stuff. I’m going to get my degree; there is no doubt about that. If I have to do it the way Mariah’s dad and brother did it then that is what is going to happen. I like school and I love football. This way I don’t have to worry about agents and all that going pro crap– If, then. Until then, I’m getting it done and working on my degree.”

“Your dad and brother?” The ESPN writer puts it together finally; afterall there is not really a family resemblance. Mariah had been adopted when Kyle and Maxie had been in Africa before an exhibition soccer tournament. Pavel Radcliffe had been adopted from the Ukraine. 

“Right. They both did their courses online or by remote.” Mariah nods. “It took a lot of pressure off Pavel about going pro. He had Dad’s example to know that learning is a life long process rather than the arbitrary four years after high school. It also added pressure in a way too. My parents don’t care what you’re doing, there is no excuse for not being in school. If they could get their degrees while following my father’s professional career from Milan to Manchester to Madrid...”

“How much has your father’s professional soccer career impacted your choice to become a soccer player?”

“Have I decided to become a soccer player?” Mariah answers with a laugh. “Dad quit playing soccer when I was seven. For most of my life he’s been a broadcast analyst. Mom banned him from our soccer practices when we were kids. He couldn’t just sit and enjoy the games, he had to be coaching. Yes, we were all raised playing soccer. There’s even an indoor soccer pitch in my parents attic here in Port Charles. But of their six kids, all of whom were adopted out of countries with a rich soccer history, only two have played at the college level– me and Drew. And frankly, the only reason Drew played was because it paid for his undergraduate degree... he’s going to be a vet.”

“True but not quite, Mariah.” The Herald sports reporter counters. “Jimmy and Rafe are still in high school at Queen of Angels and they’re both all state. They’re already being heavily recruited and getting a lot of press as High School sophomores. Written up in Parade Magazine for the all high school soccer all stars.”

The PCU coach nods. He’s heard the soccer coach talking about the Radcliffe boys. Jimmy adopted in Manchester and Rafe in Rio but they might be twins so in-synch they are on the pitch. “The only question on those two is can they play on different teams.”

“It’s not a problem.” Mariah says confidently. “Whenever we’re doing family pickup games they have to be opposite teams. They’re actually tougher against each other than when they’re playing together.” Only the Radcliffe’s could talk about a family soccer pick up game. Kyle and Maxie might not have gotten their soccer team but when you started adding cousins willing to play in a pick up game: Bill, Lee, Hill and even Chandy when she’s home... family get together’s had to be held at Maxie and Kyle’s place where a quick jump over the fence put you right on the fields behind Queen of Angels. If the get togethers are held over at Skye and Cole’s then it would be all about the lake and diving off the end of the dock to swim out to the platform in the middle.

* * *

There are three different stories in that little cable show the ESPN reporter decides– four if you count the show itself. He’d come to Port Charles to speak on sports broadcasting and been roped into going out for ribs, not realizing until he got there that it was The Jock’s Table. But he’d been given access to everything shot at the table as long as he used the college facility to edit. So he’d ended up being in the lab the whole next day working with senior students at the college putting pieces together. The only piece good to go is about Junior– which is good because it’s football season. The piece about Mariah Radcliffe is about done too but there needed to be a bit more added to it– women’s college game around the country. And then there is the bit on the Radcliffe “twins”– almost pro, college and high school.

“So how did you like your trip to Port Charles?” One of the producers of SportsCenter asks. He’s the one who had assigned the young reporter to the gig over at the college.

“You knew. You knew what would happen.”

“Oh yeah. I started Jock’s Table when I was there. Kind of a bummer about Dara Jensen and Gia Campbell being out of town though. They always teach a seminar of Jock Law. Started with Kyle Radcliffe and Spike Lavery back in the day. They’ve been educating student athletes going through Port Charles for the last twenty years. So who was at the table?”

“Junior Kahanalua, his coach, reporter from the local paper...”

“The Herald.” The producer nods. “Skye Radcliffe sponsors a lot of scholarships- not huge but many and renewable depending on grades. Not going to pay your way but might buy you a laptop or some books.”

“Mariah Radcliffe was hosting. Dinner was half over before I figured out she was Kyle Radcliffe’s kid.”

“And no European sportscaster would have missed that one. Kyle Radcliffe is still a god over there. He makes the sports and entertainment columns too thanks to his wife. Everyone figured his kids would be the next generation... they just didn’t know it would be golf.”

“Mariah and Drew are playing college soccer at PCU and the youngest--Jim and Rafe were written up in Parade?”

“And she’s hosting? You bring back any tape on her?”

“Yeah. A copy of the whole dinner as well cutting something on Junior.”

“Any word on him going pro?”

“He’s not going to not this year or maybe even next. You’ll love the reason.”

“What?”

“He’s not done growing yet.” 

The producer looks at him slack jawed. “You have got to be kidding me. He’s already a monster. He’s leading the Big East in sacks and points scored on defense.”

“Oh believe me I know. I was watching him eat a slab of ribs, half a chicken and a quart of both macaroni salad and coleslaw. His mother made him take some kind of xray or MRI or something which showed his growth plates. He may grow another two inches. Mama evidently didn’t want her growing boy going to a school that might damage him.”

“Damn.”

“That’s all on tape. Nobody is going to fight this guy about staying in college. Anyone pushing to him to go pro would have to be a total asshole. Gees... growth plates.”

“We’re going to need a sports doctor, studies of rookie injuries– especially of guys turning pro before graduating. Maybe track down David Robinson. I know he’s basketball but the story goes that he was 6ft7 when he entered the naval academy and over 7 ft when he graduated. That’s five inches in 4 years.” The producer starts a mental check list already planning on the next story, or rather the second part of this one.

“On it.” The junior reporter nod and heads toward the research department. This is going to be a feature and he hasn’t had enough of them to treat it as commonplace.

* * *

The Amtrak had pulled in almost on time to Miami. The pros had disconnected Edward’s private varnish from the train and routed it to a spot off the main line. There a limo bus meets the ABA attendees from Jensen, Campbell and Winthrop. Alexis Davis-Smith and her husband are the last two on the limo. Dara can tell Alexis is already in the zone, ready to battle. She hadn’t seen her nemesis like this in quite a few years. Within a couple of hours, Alexis would be giving her keynote. The ABA had made a big deal about this one. This is the stuff of legal legend– where the lawyers are the good guys. And making tons of money is important but gut check everyone wants to be the good guy– to win the good fight.

“Sorry about cutting it so close. Maybe we should have flown. Alexis is going to be the first one up. We’re barely going to have time to check in at the hotel.”

“Nah this is good.” Zander smiles at Dara. “Tash is on the trail. She gets like this when she’s on a hot case.”

“I remember.” Dara’s voice is wry.

“I might be on the trail but I’m not deaf.” Alexis gives her husband an elbow in the side.

“Ow.” Zander protests. He leans over and grabbing her face in both hands plants a kiss on her lips.

Alexis curls her hands in the front of his shirt. When Zander is finished kissing her and pulls back. “Sorry. But I don’t think that is what they mean by kissing it better.”

“I’m the injured party, I’ll decide what kissing will make it better.” Zander brushes her hair back. “It’s all good, Tash. You’re going to knock them out of their socks.”

“It’s just so important. Do it or don’t do it— this one is where it’s more insulting to do it half assed.”

“You’ve never done anything half-assed in your life.” Zander reminds her.

Dara gives a smile and moves down the bus. Zander had never waivered in his loyalty and adoration of Alexis. If she had ever found a guy like that, hopefully she’d have realized it. But Dara also knows Alexis hadn’t, not really. Zander is the one who’d made sure Alexis didn’t overlook him and hadn’t accepted any excuses– not his age or her mental health. They were meant to be together. Dara takes a seat next to Cam. “Who would have guessed about those two?”

“Not me.” Cam’s tone is wry. He’d been dating his son’s wife before her long mental break, before Zander and Tasha had married. He’d had to put aside his growing personal interest to start mending the pieces of Alexis’ mind. By the time they were done, Alexis hadn’t thought of him in any other ways than Zander’s father and her doctor.

“Is she going to be able to handle this?” Dara murmurs keeping her voice low.

“Alexis is solid as a rock, Dara. And she may be putting pressure on herself about this speech but she also knows it’s a speech. She is more focused when she’s working an individual case, when someone’s life is on the line.” He can see that she is not quite buying it and it’s a concern he’s had as well. “I understand that this is a lot of focus on her, rather than her causes, focus she cannot help but be aware of. Zander is also aware. Most CEOs of major international companies don’t take the week off to run their spouse’s slide show.”

“Yeah, I got to find me one of those.” Dara teases. But she also relaxes a little bit too.

* * *

Charlie Winthrop had drawn the short straw and ended up checking everyone in while they all went to the conference hall. Alexis would be doing her thing. Hopefully someone would be taping it. Everything is being charged to the firm and Mary would figure out later if anything needed to be reimbursed. They should have brought along an extra support staff for this. Mrs Taggart would have been the best of course for dotting i’s and crossing t’s but she has her own thing to be doing too. The people from JCW are split out into two floors but all at the same hotel so it’s easy enough to go with the bellhop after the check in, is complete and sort all the overnight and hanging bags to the appropriate room. Anyone who had a laptop had taken it with them.  
The partners all have suites as do Alexis Davis and her husband. Cameron Lewis had a single but hadn’t wanted a suite. He figured any prep work would be done her father and Casey’s suite. The more junior attorney’s who’d been able to clear their schedule for this would be doubling up on a lower floor. Some would be flying in at the last minute, as many as could manage it had taken the train with the partners figuring it was a right political thing to do.

“Hey Charlie, how’s it going?”

“Paul.” Charlie gives an old college buddy a hug. She’s got a few years on him because she didn’t go straight to law school after college. She’d kicked around a bit even did some PI work at Scorpio Investigations before applying to law school. They’d met at Harvard law and realized soon after that they had common ties. Paul had been working for CSMC- talent since before there was a CSMC talent. Gia did all their legal work before Paul passed his bar. The common ties to Port Charles had made for a few homesick moments over a beer. More for Paul who’s a Port Charles native then for her. She’d come to Port Charles when her father had joined JCW. “How many from the old stomping grounds here?”

“Seen a few. The emails have been flying on the alumni site for the last couple months. There is supposed to be a cocktail party tonight 7pm.” 

“Saw that.” Charlie nods. The clerk behind the desk has finished up all the keys and paperwork. The bellhop is waiting with a cart loaded with luggage. “Lets meet up there. I think I’m going to be busy for the next little bit.”

“There if not before.” Paul agrees. He steps up to the counter an starts on his own check in. Because Tori had made the ticket arrangements for him, he’s in a single but not a suite. Tori would spring for a suite for a rock star... but he’s not a rock star anymore. If he hurried though, he’d still get to hear Baby’s mother do her thing on the big stage.

* * *

Gia sits Alexis down backstage, nodding to her husband, has Jesse hold Alexis’ shoulders. Then opening up a makeup case, she goes to work. Alexis hadn’t seen a courtroom in years and never on stage not even a nurses ball. That made Gia the makeup expert in the room. This thing was going to be recorded in high def for the folks who couldn’t be here.The last thing anyone wanted was for Alexis to look either washed out or like a clown.

“This isn’t necessary.” Alexis protests.

“Yes, it is. Come on... you’re the good example I hold up to Dara about not forgetting to take a little me time.”

“That’s easy. I just go visit Baby. She has the stylist and nail person come out every week to take care of the people on the Island.”

“Hmm. Maybe we could get Mary to do that too. She’s already got a drycleaning service in the building.” Because it’s a pro getting it done in less than fifteen minutes, Alexis looks like herself but more so and still would from the back of the auditorium.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this.” A convention center rep interrupts.

“What’s that?” Alexis asks.

“You’re SRO– standing room only. What is this lecture about?”

“Being the Good Guy.”

“Lawyer? Good Guy?” The rep laughs. He’s heard as many negative jokes about lawyers as the next guy. “This I have to hear.” He grimaces at his loose lipped comment.

“Exactly.” Gia agrees taking it the right way and with a bit of humor even if it did get tired. “You’re ready, Tash. Zander said he’d be right out front running the powerpoint.”

“Thanks for doing this.” Tash reaches up and pats Jesse’s hand. “I know you’d both rather be back in Port Charles.”

“Nah, everyting all good up der. Marcus took care da trouble. Gonna be sittin’ on Junior til we get back.” Jesse gives Alexis a kiss on the top of her head. He still thinks of her as the precocious seven year old in a 35 year old’s body that he’d met back in his rookie year. Gia had introduced him to Penny, Nik Cassadines future wife, the gal who’d been giving Tash a dose of normal as she recovered. He counted Zander as one of his good buddies, especially because Zander didn’t know jack about football and didn’t try to. “Me and Gia will watch from the sidelines. And the JCW crew will be in the first couple of rows.”

The president of the ABA knocks on the door. “You ready, Alexis?”

Alexis stands up and with a deep sigh nods. “Let’s go.”


	3. Chapter 3

The cocktail party is more about the political and the meet and greet than actually having a party. A major topic of the evening is Alexis’ opening speech. She’d nailed it of course-- anyone who knew her knew she would. She’d been swamped with people afterward and more than a few had handed her business cards with a quick comment. “If you ever need anyone in my area...”

Alexis had taken the cards with a thanks and a quick, “I’m going to hold you to it.” 

The first person who’d offered her a card had set the tone for the rest. Probably more people were offering cards than had planned even when they were wondering what they could do. Few had sympathy for the people in jail here in the US. They all believed that the system worked, after a fashion, and that whoever is locked must have been guilty of something. But the overseas examples of fighting for an idea that they all took for granted like freedom of speech, religion or press. Those had hit home.

At the party, Alexis has changed into the proper attire. Stefan would be so proud. Zander keeps a hand on her back and an attentive ear. Now that the speech is over she’s happy to talk about the cause but she doesn’t want to talk about herself... well maybe her handsome, successful husband.

“I didn’t know if I should introduce myself or not.”

Zander recognizes him off the bat. “Morgan Benson.”

Alexis studies her daughter’s half brother. He has Sonny’s good looks as well as more than a hint of the pent up anger. She looks around to see how close everyone else is. “It’s very nice to finally meet you. Your sister says nothing but good things about you.”

“Mouse too.” Zander extends a hand to the younger man. “You’re a lawyer here in Miami.”

“International Business– South America mostly.” Morgan nods.

“Handy.” Alexis says quietly. “It was smart of you to get the hell away from Port Charles as soon as you could. I did something similar when I was your age, to get away from the Cassadines. It didn’t work of course but it was breathing room before I was pulled into the family bullshit.”

Morgan’s eyes go wide. The last thing he’d expected from Alexis Davis was such bluntness and vulgarity.

She half smiles. “There are certain benefits to losing your mind. You can pretty much say whatever you want to... it’s therapeutic. You and Baby have so much in common. I wasn’t there for her any more than Carly was there for you. Course you had Robin– Baby had Faith Roscoe... for a while.” She looks at the younger man. “So you want to really talk or just play nice.”

Morgan looks at the older woman and decides it’s time to make up his own mind rather than relying on other’s version of history. Alexis’ presentation had been inspiring... and made him wonder who the hell is she? With a hand in the direction of an unoccupied table, Morgan is equally blunt. “I’d like to know who the hell you are.” 

“Excellent question.” Alexis says cheerfully and takes the lead to the table. “So do you want to hear about your father? I think Zander and I could give you a... fairly unbiased view. Your mother and I never got along. But that makes sense she was front and center for some of my most embarrassing moments. My bridal shower the first time I tried to marry Ned– up to and including breathing in a paper bag because I was freaking so hard. Walking in on me and Sonny, which I can’t regret because while stupid it did give me, Baby. Zander actually worked for both Sonny and Carly at different times.”

“You’re kidding?!”

Zander shakes his head. “Carly and Jason were, are and will always be tight. At one point I was dating Jason’s sister Emily. So I worked for Carly when she was running Club 101 with Jasper Jacks. And I worked for Sonny back when Jason took a vacation from the business. It was about the time as Sonny was getting custody of Michael from AJ.”

Morgan knew that story. He’d actually read the court transcripts on that one... as well as the transcripts of his mother shooting Tony Jones. He knows Alexis defended Tony Jones. “What was he like?”

Zander shakes his head. “You started this one, Tash.”

“Bobbie Spencer, your grandmother I guess, once told Nikolas, my nephew, her own philosophy on Nietzsche. You know the one-- What doesn’t kill you makes you stronger...” 

Morgan nods. He’s heard that one before.

“Bobbie added to that one. What doesn’t kill you... is your life. Her early life was hell, almost Cassadine in the depths of its depravity. The Spencers seem to specialize in dealing with the chaos, thriving in chaos: Luke, Bobbie, your mother, Lucky. They’re survivors the lot of them. Bobbie had Luke– he wasn’t a great example but in his own twisted way he looked out for Bobbie, and Bobbie knew it. However sick it was they had each other.”

“And Sonny?” My father.

Alexis shakes her head. “He adored his mother, Adele. Would never hear anything against her. I guess that is what little boys do.”

“Yeah, it is.” Zander agrees. 

“Sorry, I think that the bitch has a lot to answer for– and hopefully she’s answering in hell. Your mother— shot the guy who kidnaped your brother Michael. I stabbed the guy who left me in labor in the middle of a frozen park. Stabbed him and shoved him over a railing.” Alexis smiles. Took her about ten years to get that memory back and it’s one she cherishes. 

“Luis Alcazar.” Morgan murmurs.

“Adele stayed with a man who beat her, beat her son, whipped him with a belt, locked him in a closet, verbally abused both of them– and when it came down to choosing between Sonny and Deke... she picked Deke. Sonny spent the first part of his life powerless and it defined him. He would do anything to avoid losing power, including murder.”

“He did love Carly.” Zander interjects. “But they were hell on each other and everyone around them. Take a guy who is all about power and mix it with a woman who is all about chaos toss in abandonment issues on both sides, you didn’t need a match to set that combination on fire and everyone got burned. He changed after he shot your mother... and it sure as hell didn’t do anything good for Jason and Sonny’s relationship.”

“They were still partners... up until Sonny went to prison, even after.”

“That one I’m not going to be any help on. I was kind of out of it. I didn’t get totally reintegrated until Sonny had been in about three years. I know what happened before the break and I know what happened after I was reintegrated but the ten years of therapy is kind of a hash of this memory or that... and your father wasn’t a priority for me.” Alexis looks at Zander.

“I don’t wanna go there.”

“Zander, nobody else is going to tell him the truth.”

“Some things are better buried.” Zander counters. Then he sighs. He rubs his hand over his eyes. “I was never in Jason’s confidence and he didn’t have much use for me. I didn’t start getting my life together until I had to.” He tells Morgan. He takes Alexis’ hand and brings the back of it to his lips. “Jason seemed to be putting his life together and keeping up his end of things with Sonny. Even after Sonny killed Faith. Jason stopped covering for Sonny when he found out your mother was being abused in the first facility she was in. At that point he picked you, Robbie and Carly. He made sure Sonny was protected from the violence of the prison but he didn’t do anything to get Sonny out and he could have.”

“Your father was claustrophobic and Jason never got him out of prison. Draw your own conclusions.” Tasha suggests.

“Faith Roscoe was no saint.”

That draws laughter from both Alexis and Zander. Zander grins, “Oh you got that right. She was the furthest from a saint as you’ll ever find on either side of Hell.”

“How much do you know about my mental break?” Alexis asks. “Probably by the time you were old enough to be curious it was already old news.”

“Disassociative Identity Disorder, right?”

Alexis nods. “And there isn’t a magic pill you take and boom you’re cured. Your mind and personality are shredded and you have to get a pro like Zander’s dad to knit everything back together. Most people call me Alexis, the name I was known by from the time I was seven. Darn few call me as Natasha, my birth name– mostly Luke Spencer when he’s being perverse. Most people think that my mind broke when I killed Luis Alcazar.”

“It didn’t?” Morgan had been one of them.

Alexis shakes her head. “My mind broke when I was seven years old and I saw my step mother slit my mother’s throat. What brought on the... crisis was seeing Faith Roscoe holding Kristina right after she was born.”

“Faith was the spitting image of Helena Cassadine when Helena was young. Faith was more of a platinum blonde than Helena but they both had the same sexual, predatory, amoral... vibe.” Zander explains.

“It was too parallel.” Alexis admits. “Seeing Helena standing there holding the baby– my baby was too much like seeing her with my mother’s blood on her hands looking for my baby sister. It actually freed me, the me who had been buried since I was seven and locked up Alexis– the alter who’d been living in my shoes for thirty years.” 

“Ned, Baby’s father, had teamed up with Faith, both of them with the goal of taking down Sonny. Ned knew Faith hated Sonny but didn’t know the reason why, not at that point.”

“Why?” It’s bizarrely fascinating and he can’t really tie it to himself. It’s just a story.

“Faith’s first husband name was Paul Roscoe; he was... connected– mid level thug for the most part until openings were created above him in the organization.” Zander explains. He knows this part better than Alexis ever would. “He made a play for the whole thing. He made a move against Sonny, even went after Carly at one point. He ended up at the bottom of the Port Charles River... although they never did find his body. And Faith would have probably forgiven Jason and Sonny for that... cost of doing business and Paul really was a son of a bitch except for one thing.”

“What’s that?” 

“The same night as it all went down she was at Mercy hospital losing her baby. That’s why Faith went after Sonny... not because of Paul but because of the baby. Then Alexis was in the hospital, Ned put Kristina in Faith’s arms... end of story. Sexual, amoral, predatory some might say sociopathic but Faith rebuilt her life around Baby. From the first moment Faith held Baby– whatever Baby wanted, Baby got.”

“Everyone is so serious here. What’s going on?” Gia demands bringing her drink with her. She’d seen Alexis and Zander sitting with a strange man for what seemed like forever and decided to investigate.

“Gia, do you know Morgan Benson?” Alexis puts emphasis on the name so Gia knows the weight of the conversation.

That gives Gia pause. “If you’re the Morgan Benson, I think you are– I knew your mother. She gave me my first break modeling. Modeling didn’t work out but it gave me the money to get through law school.” And because Gia had interrupted the conversation everyone else from JCW makes their way over to the table and pull up chairs. Private time is over. It’s time for the social.

* * *

Hours later in a Coral Gables house backing onto a canal, Morgan empties his pockets into the dish on the top of his dresser, wallet and cell phone too. It’s a cell phone that only one person has the number-- the woman half asleep in his bed. He’d been carrying the cell since she hit her seventh month of pregnancy. Especially after all the drama they’d had with their first child.

“Hey. How did it go?” Lisa Pappas-Benson asks sleepily.

“Good. What do you know about Disassociative Identity Disorder?”

That wakes Lisa up. “Just the bit I did in a psych rotation. Kind of stuck because it’s so Hollywood. And has been used so often by frauds whether it’s the patient or the doctor. Thing is real DID...” She shudders.

“What?”

“It’s caused by horrible trauma when a child is too young to deal. And a lot of kids get through trauma without going DID; there always seems to be a factor more than abuse more like torture. Something so horrific that shutting down is the better option.”

“Watching step mom slit mom’s throat at the age of seven?”

“Oh yeah, I think that would do it. I thought you went to the ABA conference?”

“Yeah, had a chat with Alexis Davis- Smith after the keynote at the social. She beat a murder charge with a case of DID back before I was born.”

“Your sister’s mother.” Lisa murmurs. She knows more about Baby than Morgan does because her brother works for CSMC, Kristina Ashton’s company. “That must have been interesting.”

“She knew both of my parents– before my mother’s brain damage before Sonny was convicted and sentenced to death row.”

“So did your Uncle Jason and Aunt Robin.” Lisa counters.

“Yeah, but I get the feeling they shade things, or in Uncle Jason’s case say nothing at all.”

“And Alexis Davis didn’t?”

“Probably but it was probably closer to the truth than anything I’ve heard so far.”

“So what did you learn?”

“My parents were truly fucked up.”

“Morgan, you knew that one already.”

Morgan laughs. “Yeah, but it’s all a matter of degree.” He comes over and gives Lisa a kiss and then a kiss on her protruding belly. “Definitely going to have to do better with this one and the one down the hall.”

* * *

Charley didn’t mind going to the after party that the Harvard alumni were putting on. Not much anyway, as long as it was catching up with everyone from school it’s fun. As soon as it gets into the elitest BS she’s ready to leave. She’d picked Harvard because Dara had gone there and it’s a good school. Paul had gone there because it was based in Boston and he’d been working his way through law school even though that is definitely not recommended. If it had come down to it, he would have quit law school before quitting CSMC and from a financial standpoint it would probably be a smart move. But he’d made it through and passed the bar in one and now is treated like an associate of JCW even if he isn’t. Jensen, Campbell and Winthrop have a long standing tie to Courtland Street dating back to 2002. They’d handled all the real estate deals before Faith died and after had taken over more of the legal work as CSMC became more mainstream. Her dad had joined the firm about the same time as CSMC was getting their start.

As house counsel for CSMC– talent, Paul is more front office of the record label but when they needed a lawyer, he’d hand the front office over to Tori Palmer and focus on the need. Gia had been their hired gun for a lot of things before Paul came on board. She’d traded office space for occasional consults and then taken an active mentoring role with Paul. They are both working entertainment law. Fact is that Gia relied on Paul more for the entertainment law than she did any of the associates in Port Charles that she worked with on a daily basis and had pushed him hard to pass the bars in all three states: Massachusetts, New York and California. They always knew where each other were and tagged teamed efficiently as needed. 

“Paul, do you know Serena Baldwin?”

“Haven’t had the pleasure.” Paul shakes hands with a trim blonde. “Oh wait– ADA in Port Charles. Anders Pappas– you handled his case, testifying against a bunch of gang bangers. I was still in highschool and playing lead guitar for Mayday.”

“Ouch.” Serena winces. “I can’t believe it’s been that long or that I still remember that case. It was my second year with the DA’s office, I’d just started on major felony after a year of plea bargains and misdemeanors.”

“Serena was just elected DA this year.” Charley tells Paul. “It’d have been sooner but her father was DA once and there is a lot of backlash on perceptions of entitlement. Serena, this is Paul Reston. He is the front office for CSMC- talent in Boston.”

“Charley’s being kind. My father had a lousy reputation as a lawyer. So it took me a bit longer to clean up that mess before I could start making headway in my career.”

Paul’s smile is a little strained at that. It’s definitely putting things out there without any effort at subtle.

“Serena’s grandfather, Lee, likes to use the JCW law library. He’ll show up now and then and just catch up on the current. Says the brain is a muscle and needs to be exercised now and then.” Charley grins at Serena. It’s changing the subject to a more pleasant topic.

“I think I’ve seen him.” Paul slowly nods. “I was up visiting Gia and Dara. They both had clients so I was hanging out. Figured might as well get a little work done. He was arguing with a new associate. They both seemed to having a good time.”

“That’s grandpa.”


	4. Chapter 4

They’d done their roadshow on Oprah, on Nancy Grace, even on Bianca Montgomery’s New Beginnings down in Pine Valley. They rotated who started speaking depending on the audience. When they’d been on Dr Phil, Cam had taken lead. That had been a fun one. Cam hadn’t bothered to tell them that his plan had been to make Dr Phil have a stroke on air. Cam, Casey and Cass have a rhythm to their speaking that is skilled but natural sounding. Bringing it to the ABA had been fairly easy to do. The invitation had come when the book had crossed over from niche for counselors and attorneys to the general population. But when 1 in 2 marriages ends in divorce, it’s definitely a concern for a lot of people out there. It isn’t exactly JCW business but it did end up bringing in a lot of business and prestige to the firm. 

Mary Bishop-Taggart coordinated the event with the local planners making sure there were enough autographed books on hand. She’d also gotten a list of the people who are going to be at the event if only the pre-solds. It’s being heavily attended by Family court judges from across the country. This could every well end up being a symposium of ideas that would be carried back to the various jurisdictions. Especially if they could arrange a little small group action. There are going to be more than a few people with power in that room... and family law is heavily on the precedent. Judges set the tone in their courtrooms and have more leeway than on the criminal side.

Cass is a sharp dresser from his handmade wingtip shoes, cashmere socks to fitted button down shirts, silk tie and lightweight wool suit. His dark curly hair is cut short and he keeps a bottle of water nearby. One of the side effects of the bipolar disorder he has, or rather one of the side effects of the medication is thirst. “Good morning. I see a few familiar faces out there. Judge Marker, Judge Goodwin– the continuance wasn’t for this, I swear. I’d like to introduce the others up here– Dr Cameron Lewis, dual specialities, started out as a board certified cardiac surgeon then switched to psychiatry and has been practicing up in Port Charles, New York for a number of years. And Dr. Casey Marcos, phd in clinical social work from NYU, and over twenty years in the field with child protective services and the first thing she did when she retired was rope Cam and me into writing this book.”

Cam and Casey give a little wave. Cass keeps going with the intro into the topic. It’s nothing that the participants haven’t seen. What they are coming at it with it is basically a kid’s bill of rights in the divorce and that the kids interests are reflected in the outcome. Cass varies from Casey in a certain element of this. Casey believes that parents who will intentionally send a kid off to the other parent in rags, or dirty, need to be brought up on charges. It’s using the kid as a manipulation, as a weapon against the other. And Casey is more than willing to take that bat out of the parent’s hand and shove it where the sun doesn’t shine.  
Cass uses the chapter titles as an outline of the part of his speech and quickly works his way through. Then all three of them are on their feet and all are mic’ed up. They are throwing the topic open to questions and comments. Off to the side Mary is taking notes on this. They would be sending out a summary to all the participants of issues and suggestions. There would also be a digest of it sent out to the family law journals. The participants would be getting a lot of bang for the bucks they’d put down to come to this lecture.

* * *

One floor down and three doors over, Paul and Gia are both at the intellectual property programs. More and more these have become technology based. Someone is always inventing a new and better delivery system: gramaphone, records, 8-tracks, cassettes, CDs, DVDs, digital.... The drug enforcement people have the same problem, a new chemical isn’t illegal until someone makes it illegal. Gia and Paul have to be on the cutting edge of technology to make sure that their clients aren’t getting ripped off of royalties or residuals just because someone built a different mousetrap. 

Each program is about 90 minutes long and come at things from a different angle: patents, copyrights, trademarks. New media, art, music, foreign and domestic. There is enough information and updates that could keep of them both busy for th length of the conference. It’s one of the reasons why they’d split some of the programs and make sure that good notes were taken. Paul is already making a name for himself in this area. Even before he graduated he’d been bringing examples to Gia and together they’d pounced. He aggressively protects the talent of CSMC slapping on anyone who might be infringing. The flip side of this issue is that he’s equally aggressive seeking out the music he likes and when possible either bringing the artist under the CSMC umbrella or buying the portfolio. CSMC is too small to go after something like the Beatles or one of the huge groups from the past but he’s keeping it under the radar going for other groups of the 60, 70 and 80s. Music that is good but not popular again... yet.

* * *

True to her plan, Dara is attending a historical mock trail. A famous case from the past, revisited. They really should come with popcorn and milk duds. Sometimes it’s a true to the time rendition. Other times it’s applying modern forensic science and case law to the old cases. Sometimes the results differ from the original. One of those arguments against the death penalty. Some things just couldn’t be changed. Of course the ABA was careful to make sure that the cases aren’t picked apart until the principals are all dead by natural causes or other. This years is particularly good. Only the lawyers are actually lawyers the others are actors and had really put on a production complete with starting with the paperboy calling out the headlines from the press leading up to the trail. These are the cases that predate Miranda.

* * *

While Alexis attends some International Law programs, Zander takes off to check out his old stomping grounds. Before he’d moved to Port Charles he’d been a florida boy and he rarely got back. If he and Alexis vacationed at the beach it was usually Europe or out in California seeing Fancy. So Zander and Jesse rent a car and go looking for fun... and there might even be tattoos involved.

* * *

Charley and Serena both end up at the Criminal Justice programs to make sure they are both up to speed on the latest decisions. Charley is considered a utility player at JCW but still low enough on the totem poll that she’d do the criminal work for any of their bigger clients. If it was a major, major then Dara would come in too but she wanted the junior associates to get litigation time in, and the most court time is with the criminal courts. A lawsuit could take forever and were normally solved with paper not courts because the backlogs across the country are so bad.  
Because Serena has just been elected DA there are courses that are specific to running a department that Charley manages to duck by picking up a program on recent law overthrowing the searching of laptops, cells and PDAs of people traveling abroad. That had been an ugly sucker of an offshoot on the Patriot Act. People participating in International business had started screaming immediately. Proprietary information was kept on the laptops. Why else take them on business trips? Unless the electronics is rigged to blow then the government had no business in them... and searching them after the plane landed as part of customs? Well that is all about information and not about the device itself. The government had push it through saying that they were looking for terrorist threats or underage porn. The lawsuits had started immediately. 

Unfortunately they didn’t gain ground until a major deal went south because information on a laptop had been leaked to a competitor by a government contractor. It got so bad that business people quit taking their laptops which could end up in the feds custody for weeks or months making time sensitive decisions impossible to actually printing out the information. Boxes of documents ended up traveling with business men instead of their computers or even their clothes. The other solution had been big businesses hiring couriers to bring laptops in from abroad with the direction that the government could do all they liked to the computer as long as it was never out of the sight of the courier in an effort to make the government speed up their interference. That had just resulted in couriers getting arrested for obstruction. Fun times had by all!

* * *

Morgan had already run into the problems that Charley is learning about. He’d gone to college down in Venezuela one summer and tried to bring a laptop full of school work back with him when the term had been over. It had been Thanksgiving before he got his laptop back. The paper he’d turned in on his school abroad experience had been very different than the one that had been outlined on the computer. It had been the paper that got him into Law school.


	5. Chapter 5

Junior is more than literally the BMOC at Port Charles University. During football season it’s a split focus and he compensates by taking the bare minimum to remain a full time student. He makes up for it on the other terms loading up and even taking courses over the summer while staying in football shape. Junior stayed a couple of years in the dorms even done the frat rush thing. Has plenty of friends in the greek system but that had ended up not being for him. He’d gotten a place near campus. Somewhere it isn’t a big deal if he walks around in a lava lava and everyone had to take their shoes off when they came in the house. 

Because his father is a retired NFL player and his mother is one of the most famous entertainment lawyers in the country, nobody is particularly surprised he has a place of his own. There are no accusations of tampering or NCAA investigations into his finances. Probably because the NCAA is afraid of his mother. There is a familiar car in his drive way. “Tutu, you still here?” He calls out as he enters the house, toeing off his shoes and putting them by the door. He already knows she is there. Her outside shoes are right there too.

“Yeah, You think I’m gonna leave without my car?” Tutu comes out of his bedroom. “I put your laundry away.”  
“I would have done it.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t.” She gives him a look before changing the subject. “I got a phone call from the principal of Kahuku today. She’s got some kids coming over to da mainland to check out schools.”

“You tell her what the temperature is?” Junior laughs and then adds. “And that the nearest break is about a thousand miles away and then only if there is a hurricane?”

“Yes, I told her. It doesn’t mean that I didn’t also tell her about the paddling team that the Pacific Islander club has.” Tutu counters with a nod. “Melia has a t’ing on Friday. You can be there. It’s a home game on Saturday.”

“It’s already on my calendar. Still waiting for the other shoe to drop with Mom since she got back from Florida.”

“I already talked to your muddah. You’re on notice. I told her it’s all pau.”

“Thanks Tutu.”

“And you tell Mariah she needs to pick up her clothes too. Although how one of her bras got underneath your bed I don’t wanna know and I’m sure her father and great uncles don’t want to know either.”

“Damn Tutu.” Junior flushes in embarrassment turning color more of a purple than a red. It’s not a good look for him.

“I’m just saying.” She comes over and gives him a kiss on the cheek and then a firm pat. “I’ll let you know when the kids arrive. So you know to make sure they don’t do anything too stupid. See you Friday.” With that his grandmother is out the door and off to her SUV. She’s got a legit reason for driving an SUV. Their family wouldn’t fit in one of those subcompact cars unless they were driving from the backseat-- literally.

* * *

Elementary school is hell even if she’s the top grade and would be off to middle school next year. The only thing that would be worse is queen of angels. Here at least there are no uniforms. The only thing she had to contend with is being taller than everybody. It wasn’t such a big thing at home. The only one shorter than she is, is Mom and that is only in the last couple of months.

“Melia, did you miss the bus?”

“No, sir. I have dance class. Tutu is picking me up.” Melia tells the principal.

“And you said you’d meet her here?”

“Uh huh. She was stopping off at Junior’s house first to see the condition of his fridge. Depending on what she found she could be late but she’s not going to make me late to class. See there she is.”

The principal waits until Melia is buckled into the front passenger seat and shuts the door. Should probably inform the girl’s grandmother that children were supposed to ride in the back seat but since Melia is already five foot nine, it just didn’t make sense. “Hello Mrs K.”

“Hello Principal Jackson. Sorry I’m late. Junior.” Tutu rolls her eyes. “If I didn’t stop by goodness knows what I would find under his bed. You coming to the recital on Friday? We’ll be having a luau after.”

“Wouldn’t miss it. Thanks for inviting me.” Stepping back from the car the principal gives a wave to let Tutu know he’s clear.

Inside the SUV. “So, how was school?”

“Eh. I did my homework during lunch. Didn’t get to play during PE because the teacher thinks it’s unfair if I’m on one person’s team.”

“Hmm.” Tutu non comments and keeps her eyes on the road. Melia has it rougher than Jesse had going to school. Coming up Jesse hadn’t been the biggest kid in school just the best football player. There had been a couple of others who had been bigger but ended up going to Japan to train for Sumo. That hadn’t been an option for Jesse since he had not a drop of Japanese blood in him. And Junior had always been able to play with his dad and hang around the older kids who were playing sports. And there is no stigma to being tall when you’re a boy. But a girl taller than all the boys and most of the teachers... that’s a rough one.

“What’s that mean? Hmm?” Melia counters.

“It means I’m t’inkin’.”

“I like it better when you think out loud, Tutu.” Melia suggests.

“I’m just thinking that maybe we should be telling the principal of yours that you don’t need to be doing PE at the school. But if that is the case then you’d have to be doing something else.”

“Dance?” Considering she is at the studio on a daily basis it’s a valid suggestion. 

“True.” Tutu nods. She’d gone into business with Winona when Jesse had been a rookie. It was something to keep her busy while she’d been keeping an eye on her boy. And then something to keep her busy after Jesse and Gia had married until the keikes came along. Winona might have bought the studio with money she’d earned as an exotic dancer but she’d also been classically trained. Just the wrong body type for anything but exotic. 

There are still pole dance classes offered as well as stripper 101, 201 and graduate level, more as a attention grabber but there were all kind of classes offered at the studio including polynesian dance. The polynesian dance class went year round not just when Leilani’s in Port Charles, there are enough students at PCU to keep it running. Fact is that the studio also serves as the headquarters for the polynesian club of Port Charles complete with a couple of full size outriggers in the garage. The Club battled with clubs in other college towns whether it was dance, outrigger or song. They would call them battles but it is a good excuse to get together and keep their heritage alive and vital– and party. They pull up to the dance studio. “Go get changed.”

“Kay.” Melia unfastens her seatbelt and grabs her gear from the back of her seat and races into the studio.

Tutu is slower to follow making sure of her footing as she climbs the steps to the studio. The first thing there is a counter and Winona is checking things on her computer. “Howzit?”

“Just the way I like it-- booked solid.” Winona says with a grin. The studio has a number of instructors, thanks to her work with CSMC– talent she’s gotten a reputation as a choreographer and would get called out to work on Videos or even with acts working up a stage show. There are all kind of classes going on– ballet, belly dancing, jazz, tap, modern and then the classes as non credit classes offered through PCU. As soon as Dancing with the Stars gained popularity, she’d started offering all the ballroom dances too and brought in some Arthur Murray instructors.

“You been spending a lot of time here.”

“You know I was kind of looking forward to when Henry retired... I never did get used to the smell.”

Tutu nods knowing Winona’s husband had been the top coroner of Port Charles for a lot of years. They’d been introduced by Faith Ashton back in the day. “And now that he’s home all the time?”

“I so want him to go back to work. I’ll put up with the smell!” Winona laughs. “How are things looking for this Friday’s recital?”

“Not going to jinx it.” Leilani nods. There is a sudden influx of little ones all about four or five years old. These are hers. She works on a sliding scale. The scale slid with the age of the child. Five dollars an hour for five and under, six dollars an hour for the first graders and on. And even then she’d do the buy ten classes and get one free deal and take coupons as well. She is more interested in sharing her history than making money. She claps her hands. “Why are you here with your shoes and coats still on?! Give Miz Winona your class money and head back to the room. Melia is already here and probably picking the music.” These kids are after school, latchkey and even some home schooled. At $5/hr it’s worth it to the parents to have the kids here and working out their energy. There is a rush to the counter and little ones too short to even see over the counter are throwing envelopes up on top and then running back to their classroom.

Back in her classroom there are long bamboo sticks that are used for working on footwork. There are feather gourds, bamboo sticks and coconut shell halves that could be beat together for rhythm. The big drum, ukeleles and steel guitar, the kids know better than to mess with. Those are for the big kids. When Leilani first started class it had been mostly girls coming in but Jesse had changed that. He is a regular at the studio as are the football players he’d coached along the way. The bamboo sticks are as good as jump ropes, or running tires. And he showed them that this kind of story telling is about fierce warriors completed with mock battles, yelling, grimaces designed to scare their opponents, drumming and chanting the story while the girls danced it. More than a few highschool football players had created their endzone and sack dances right here in this room.

Winona shakes her head. She’d never had kids and the rug rats are entertaining that is for sure but she’s happy to leave the really little ones to Leilani. She stacks the envelopes. They are printed on the outside with the child’s name, dates, check marks and initials. The eleventh line down is written in red in big letters FREE. The kids might not be able to read but they knew that word. In each envelope there is the lesson money. It might be a five dollar bill, it might be five ones, it might be change, it might be a check or a punch card from a parent who bought lessons in advance but each child had an envelope they had to bring every week. They didn’t have a problem with bullies stealing anyone’s dance money. Leilani only had to confront the offender once. Of course Jesse and Junior would be standing right behind her with their arms crossed. And if they weren’t available then it would be Gia’s brother Marcus Taggart the chief of police. Better for a bully to learn early that there is always somebody bigger than they are.

* * *

“Jenson, Campbell and Winthrop-- how may I direct your call?” The switchboard is separate from the receptionist. There is too much activity for one person to do both jobs. Not only that but Mary Taggart preferred to have someone security trained at the receptionist position. They might be a pretty face in a nice suit. But they could also kick ass while waiting for the security back up. The receptionist is also in charge of making sure in case of trouble that they could get the whole lobby area evacuated. It isn’t a job for the meek. The switchboard operation is run by an entry level paralegal. It gave them a chance to figure out where they wanted to work and for whom. “Yes, thank you for your patience. Charley Winthrop is in court this afternoon. Her paralegal is here or I can transfer you to Charley’s voice mail?” The switchboard doesn’t mention that the paralegal will be reviewing Charley’s voice mail anyway. “Thank you.” Next call. “Jenson, Campbell and Winthrop– how may I direct your call?”

Beyond the lobby are cubes, offices, suites and conference rooms. With support staff, IT, paralegals, lawyers and partners the law firm numbered close to a hundred and took up three floors of the building. There is a hive like buzz to the firm. There is always something going on even when people are in the break room getting refills of coffee. There isn’t exactly an open door policy because most of the people with offices had appointments but there is an open consult policy where clients got the experience of the whole firm. The person running everything is Mary Taggart. She is the hub who would make sure that everyone was exactly where they are supposed to be– whether it was court, a deposition, research or consult. There are recent graduates who haven’t passed the bar yet but are hard at work writing contracts, wills and motions.  
There are former judges’ clerks whether it was local judges, federal and even appelate courts. They came in handy when working an appeal for their business interests. JCW is the firm of record for Cat 5, which means there are a lot of injunctions, lawsuits and appeals. The public might love Cat 5 but there’re plenty who don’t. People whose houses or livelihood swept away by a hurricane who because of Cat 5's influence didn’t get to rebuild... or build at all in the case of some of the gulf casinos. It meant that a healthy portion of their attorneys have not only passed the bar in New York but also in the gulf states. They did as little politics as possible but did end up getting dragged into it when it came to Upstate New York.

“Mary, The Meyers case was reset again.” Charley Winthrop drops by to let the woman know how court went. She doesn’t come into Mary’s office she isn’t going to be there that long– just stands in the doorway as she gives the update including the next court date.

Mary rolls her eyes. “That has been dragging on too long already. Meyers is guiltier than hell.” She updates the schedule.

“And knows it. Also knows that when this is settled she is going to jail. Right now she is out on bond.” Charley agrees. “I didn’t request the delay though. Judge Randall is going in for surgery. The case is going to have to be reassigned.”

“Surgery for what?”

“Scuttlebutt has it that he went into the hospital with chest pains over the weekend they took a look at his heart whatevers and he’s going to be getting a quadruple bypass sooner rather than later.”

“Maybe he and Edward Quartermaine should have been walking the golf course rather than taking the cart.” Mary mutters. Jensen Campbell and Winthrop did take care of their people but it was a selfish care. The Dry Cleaning service, the masseuse that came in on a regular basis. The health club membership to the club in the building that is just a few floors away. The catered dinners– working dinners. Sending flowers to the judge when he’s ailing is part of all that. “Thanks for the heads up. I’ll get a card and flowers sent.”

“This might take Randall off the bench. He’s at mandatory retirement age anyway.”

“I’ll get a few working on guessing who will be tapped by the Governor. Ten years from now it would probably be Serena Baldwin.”

Mary nods. “She’s still too new in the DA’s chair. And still has the word interim in front of it. Let Cass know will you? He’s the one that is going to be hit with the scuttlebutt because so much of his work is in the courthouse.”

“I’ll let Dad know.” Charley raps on the door jam and then heads down the hallway. She’ll drop her stuff in her office and then give her dad a call first thing. Walking through her door she holds up one finger to her paralegal who has a stack of messages. She calls her father. “Hey Dad. Just got back from court. Yeah, it was postponed again. But the reason was different. Judge Randall went down over the weekend. Mary is already working on a card and flowers. Heart. He’ll probably be fine but I don’t think he’s coming back to work. Yeah, that sounds good. But it’s all dependent on what Gayle is holding in her hand right now.”

Gayle grimaces and mouths. “It’s a mess.”

“Dinner might have to be postponed. I’ll talk to you later. Give Casey my love.” Charley hangs up the phone. Reaching in the top drawer of her desk she grabs a scrunchie and pulls her hair back. Then dropping her jacket over the back of her chair and rolling up her sleeves. “Okay I’m ready.”

“Garrett Williams is back in jail.”

“Okay that is not a surprise or a mess. Love him dearly and he always pays us first but the guy is a fuckup.”

“He’s in the infirmary after a night in GH. The cops beat him like a pinata.”

Charley’s jaw drops. “You have got to be kidding me?! Not the PCPD?!” They have too many ties to the police department especially with their hub being married to the police commissioner. They’re more likely to defend the cops and in fact the PCPD branch of the policemen’s union contracted with them.

“Sheriff’s department luckily. It was in an unincorporated area between here and Beecher’s corners.”

“You know the drill-- police reports, medical reports. Copies of everything while memories are fresh. Call Scorpio Investigations have them get someone out to the scene. Lucky or Georgie will have better luck getting witness statements, especially if it’s a cop acting out.” Charley is reaching for her jacket again.

“Where are you going?” 

“To see Garrett. He’ll tell me what happened even if he had this tune up coming. Keep your phone on. If we need to get an injunction to keep him in the local lock up, I want your running shoes on.”

“On it.” Gayle nods and heads back to her desk just long enough to grab her coat and purse and head out. She grabs her cell phone and hits a number any good paralegal in a top notch firm would have on speed dial. “Scorpio Investigations? Whose got the ball– Georgie or Lucky?” She waits to be connected.

“Georgie Jones, who is calling.”

“This is Gayle Adams, Charley Winthrop’s paralegal. Got a situation that Charley wants you on....” Gayle fills in the limited details she has while hitting the button for the elevator. “Charley is going to go see Garrett. She’ll know after she talks to him if it should be an administrative thing or a big freaking lawsuit against the sheriff. Thing is by the time she gets it out of him...”

“If it a big freaking lawsuit all the evidence will be gone. How much overtime you authorizing on this.”

Gayle winces. “You’re a pro. You’re going to know in 30 minutes if this is going to be something. Travel and an hour. If it’s going to be more than an hour then call Mary Taggart because I’ll probably be messing up a judge’s dinner plans.”

“Mary’s going to be pissed.” Georgie says absently. “She’s been trying to find Marcus’ replacement. If there is something rotten in the Sheriff’s department that is going to set back the timetable huge.”

“Why do you think I’m having you call her. I’d rather face down a judge. My elevator is here. Talk to you later.”

* * *

“Hey Babe.”

“Lucky Spencer, how many times have to asked you to not call me that!” Elizabeth Spencer protests.

“Can’t resist. You know you’re a babe.” Lucky retorts. “Tell me you’re at work.”

“Now that is not normally the way you put things.” Liz frowns. Normally Lucky was wondering when she was going to be home not wishing her still at work. But their work hours had always pretty much been odd. It made parenting the kids easier actually especially through the evil teenager years. “Why do you want me to be still at work?”

“Sheriff’s brought in a guy last night. Garrett Williams. He’s one of Charley Winthrop’s clients and she wants to make sure that he wasn’t sent back to the jail infirmary too soon. The damage may have been incidental to arrest or it may...”

“Have been something else. One of these days you are going to get me fired.”

“Won’t be this time. You’re getting the information for the patient, and the patient’s lawyer. By the time anyone is asking questions Charley will have a court order for them. She’s a little on the paranoid side. Just wants to make sure that nobody has had time to tidy up before she gets hers.”

“Paranoid. No wonder you like her.” Elizabeth snorts. “You owe me, you’re going to Hardy’s dance recital on Friday.”

“Babe...”

“And don’t call me babe.” Elizabeth hangs up the phone and stuffs it back in her locker. With a sigh she heads out to one of the quieter floors to access hospital records. From there she’d be able to see if there is going to need to be some extra security surrounding the patient’s tests and xrays. It wouldn’t be the first time that all medical records would be stored in the Chief of Staff’s office and the computer file flagged to say that all requests for information had to be in writing. General Hospital did get it’s share of press cases and Robin would rather be proactive and limit access to start then start firing people for leaking information to the press.

* * *

“I was not expecting to see you.” Charley mutters half under her breath to Police Commissioner Marcus Taggart.

“Should have. Mary already called me and gave me a heads up on the situation.” Marcus’ voice is grim.

“Garrett thinks he’s a comedian some times. He ticks people off. This might be nothing.” Charley says reassuringly.

Marcus gives her a look. “As soon as Mary called, I called jail health to get a list of the damage...”

“You think it’s more than a tune up.”

Marcus doesn’t say anything. He’s already said enough. He’s a believer in the blue line. There are times when things happen because of adrenaline or just a bit too much empathy for a victim. The important thing is how quickly the officer brings themselves back under control. From the sounds of things, that is not what happened the night before. If it had been one of his officers then somebody would have been suspended pending investigation– and a grand jury.

“Uh huh.” Charley nods grimly. “Great. Has the sheriff already called you?”

“Nope.”

“Then he may not know what his deputy did.”

“I’ll give him a call.”

“I want Garrett staying here though. Already working on an injunction. I need to be able to talk to him and make sure he’s getting good care.”

“Thanks, I think.” Marcus says wryly.

“It’s not going to turn into a press case unless it does.” Charley shrugs. “Let me talk to Garrett.”

Marcus gives the nod to the shift Sgt. “Your phone take pictures?”

“Yeah.”

“Unless you have something for him to sign– Cell phone and digital recorder only. The Sgt will give you a locker to put everything else and then one of the female officers will pat you down for officer safety.”

“I’m familiar.” Charley nods. Few dumb bitch attorneys who sneak guns into their clients had blown it for everyone and it hadn’t even happened here in Port Charles but Marcus keeps up on his reading too. Because she does do the criminal side she always dresses to pass a security check point in the jail. Charley had even interviewed other clients in the infirmary– normally when they were detoxing. So she easily follows the Sgt to the correct floor and is doing the chitty chat thing until she gets an eyeful of her client. “Jesus Christ, God Almighty, What the hell happened to you?!”

Garrett’s voice is on the weak side but he half grins manfully. “Hey Charley. It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“It looks like you have two black eyes, a broken nose, broken teeth, I don’t know how many stitches, a broken arm, from the way your ribs are taped-- bruised, fractured or broken ribs.”

“Then it pretty much is as bad as it looks.” Garrett admits.

“I’ve got it from here– thanks.” Charley tells the Sgt and pulls up a chair next to her client who is dressed only in jail issue boxer shorts and laying on top of the covers of his cot in the infirmary. As soon as the Sgt is gone and the door closed behind him, Charley ask the question she knows that Garrett will give her a straight answer to. “Did you deserve this one?”

“I was a wiseass, yeah, but he was pissed before he ever knocked on the window. I was just sleeping in my car minding my own business, Kay kicked me out again...”

Charley has already activated the digital recorder and checked to make sure the volume is good. She lets Garrett tell her what he can remember and then go through it one more time with questioning and prompts. She pauses the recorder when the jail nurse comes in. He’s a burly older guy who has been in the business for a lot of years. He doesn’t take any bull and had detoxed more addicts than Dr Drew. He’s normally tough to read but Charley can see he’s pissed. “Hey Orville– this guy need some pain meds?”

Orville gives him an assessing look. “Nah, you’re good. About an hour I’ll bring you a snack and something for the pain. You take a pain killer on an empty stomach and you’ll be puking all over my nice clean floor.”

“No fun with busted ribs.” Garrett nods his agreement. “I’m good.”

“Here why don’t I help you roll over on your side.” Orville helps Garrett roll onto his good side.

“What the hell is that?” Charley sees what Orville wanted her to see. “Are those TASER marks on your BACK? You didn’t say anything about a Taser.”

“I don’t remember getting tas’d.” Garrett frowns.


	6. Chapter 6

“Well how did it go?” Marcus asks as he meets Charley right outside the jail. It’s understood that the information will be going back to the sheriff. It’s kind of a backdoor way of getting a negotiating position.

“It’s going to be a big fat check and a badge.” Charley is pissed. “The sheriff can decide whether it’s his or the power tripping asshole who needs to be locked up for assault under color of authority. This is bad, Marcus.” Normally a defense attorney wouldn’t be on first name basis with the Police Commissioner especially with the age gap but these two have the ties of the firm to the PCPD. “It was a trespass. He was sleeping at the rest area. That’s a ticket or a move along. Maybe a field sobriety test. It isn’t a tune up complete with a taser in the back when he was already out cold on the ground. That’s sadism. What was the guys previous job experience? Gitmo? The union may defend him but it’s going to be losing battle all around. With the only people making money being the lawyers.”

Marcus nods. “I hear what you’re saying.”

“And the sheriff better not think he can call Dara and get a better deal. He tries to endrun me with my boss not only is he going to lose, that is when it’s going to be a press case.”

“I know this guy, Charley. He’s going to call Dara. Not cause he’s endrunning you but as a face thing. He talks to me or the DA or a Judge, not a lieutenant, ADA or clerk.”

“Well then he’s making a mistake. Cause he can handle it on my level or he can bring this whole thing up to Dara’s level– then it isn’t about this bad apple it’s about the sheriff.”

* * *

Elizabeth already had the originals of all the lab materials and xrays under lock and key in Robin Morgan’s office. She’d left a note for Robin giving her the heads up on the situation. She knows that Lucky had already gotten a copy of the patient’s digital file, and probably had before he’d made the request for the pictures.


	7. Chapter 7 - Junior

Last Week in February some time in the future.

The two commentators have low voices but are distracting from anyone watching the Combine on NFL.com. They are in a box high above Lucas Oil field in Indianapolis, Indiana– the home of the NFL pre-draft Combine. The Combine is a showcase of invited college athletes showing what they can do and that they are ready for the next level– The National Football League. Like all sports commentators, they like to hear themselves talk. And the topic of conversation even when others are running their drills is about one player in the defensive line skill set.

“The one we’ve been waiting for is Junior Kahanalua.”

“Dare you to try to pronounce his first name.” The other teases.

“You ask Junior and he’ll tell you. Junior and then spell it for you.” The other quips back. “But just to show you I’ve done my research-- Kalikohemolele.”

The first commentator laughs and puts some emphasis on the next. “Junior has been getting noticed since high school and was highly recruited to the big schools but chose to stay in his hometown and attend Port Charles University where he leads the Northeast in sacks and tackles for a loss.”

“There have been pro teams waiting for two years for Junior to declare. His father, Jesse Kahanalua, played 12 years for the Port Charles Stallions and now coaches at one of the high schools in Port Charles and is a conditioning coach at Port Charles University.”

“Junior was heavily featured in the ESPN Sports Center piece about players coming out to the draft too early and the possible career ending physical repercussions.”

“For the teams that have been watching him for two years this had to be driving them crazy. But it’s an additional selling point now. Junior is in the best physical condition of his life. He’s still not going to be the top performer at the 40 yard dash.” One commentator finishes wryly.

“At 6ft 8in tall and 305, he doesn’t have to be. Junior is a monster coming in from the outside. Teams will run away from him because he’ll take down a runner and strip the ball before the guy hits the ground. It’s not the 40-- it’s the ten yards of the line. And a quarterback who is holding the ball had better have a good pocket because he’ll exploit any break down in protection and create it if given enough time.”

“He’s an every down player. He eliminates half the field for the runners and he’ll harass a quarterback on the pass and force errors. He may not have the speed but he’s got the reach. You remember that game against Syracuse when he knocked what they thought was going to be the go ahead touchdown and he knocked down the pass?”

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, especially about a small school guy but I think he’s going to go in the first round.”

“I’m not arguing on that point. The teams with the top picks... this is a guy who can make an impact on day one, not only on the field but in the locker room– Buffalo, New England, Baltimore– Baltimore has always been known for their defense. You know they have to be drooling over Junior.”

“San Diego. Miami is in a rebuilding year with a high draft pick could have the first shot at Junior and they haven’t been dealing. You have to figure that Junior may be part of their plan.”

“And you can bet that the rest of the AFC east coaches will be keeping an eye on Junior as defensive yes, but with an eye to their offensive too– New England, Jets, and Bills. Junior’s a quarterback breaker. If Miami doesn’t snag him-- they will to protect their quarterbacks. Junior is not a guy you want to see more than once a season.”

“Here he is.” The commentators are silent for the next five and a half seconds. The amount of time it takes to run a 40 yard dash and check the time.

“5.07 on the forty. Not the fastest time, not even close.”

“But look at the breakdown times, he is among the fastest at ten yards. That’s the distance from the line to the quarterback.” The commentator laughs. “Junior is not going to be running 40 yards unless he’s stripped the ball and is going back for a touchdown.”

“Which he has done but I’ve also noticed that he’ll lateral the ball to one of the fleeter of foot and block for them instead. If they gave assists for defensive touchdowns, he’d be a leader in that category too.”

“It’s happened often enough that PCU has put it in their defensive playbook and they practice it. It’s made him very popular with his teammates. Stories coming out of the NE say that Junior lives off campus and his place is a defensive hang out. And he isn’t playing Madden. He’s watching tape and the guys who come over are watching tape too. They’re always working or in the gym.”

“Actually I’ve heard that the attraction is his grandmother’s cooking.”

“Is it true, that when he’s not watching tape on opponents that he’s watching soccer? Girl’s soccer?!” 

“Mariah Radcliffe, NCAA Player of the Year women’s soccer. She’s got an impressive pedigree of her own. And watching that 40... she probably could have beat him on that sprint.” The other says seriously.

“Don’t think she could do what he did at the Bench Press though.”

* * *

The Commentators cut to an earlier test. The bench press is up on stage with a coach and a spotter right there. It kind of looks like an auditorium style college classroom but the sections are split into coaches, owners and then off to the side, the players who are being tested. The weight including the bar is 225 pounds and there is no time limit. The answer is the number of reps done in one sitting. This is the proof that the player has the conditioning, that they have put the time in the gym and have good technique. A guy who didn’t put the time in the gym, who didn’t have good technique is a risk for getting hurt. Different positions have different expectations. Nobody expected a quarterback to be able to do 30 reps. A lineman who couldn’t do 25 is suspect. And just so the quarterback didn’t feel puny the grouping is done by position. Junior isn’t been the first of the defensive linemen to go but he’s the one that has the coaches and owners leaning forward in their seats and ignoring their cell phones. The trash talking earlier when one of the guys from Syracuse had been lifting has set the tone for the defensive players. This might be the most important lift of their life but it is also something that they’ve been doing regularly for the last ten years– maybe more.

“Come on, Case, my grandmother could lift more than that.” Junior hollers from the side where he’s on his feet and leaning over the rail and strumming his hands on the platform in encouragement. As far as he’s concerned this isn’t just about him, it’s about all the Northeast schools. They have to represent against the NFL factory schools. And it’s about the defensive side that never got noticed around the offensive’s side stars– the quarterback and receiving corps.

Case keeps his eyes on the weight and strains to get his last reps in. He’d heard what Junior said and had put in a few extra going for his personal best. On the last one the spotter puts a hand under the bar and gets the weight back to the stand. Case sits up and first person whose eyes he meets are Junior’s. “You guys think he’s kidding. He’s not.” He goes over to Junior and tags him. “Beat that, Mama’s boy.” 

“No problem. Let me show you how it’s done.” Junior quips back as he goes up to the rosin bowl and powders his hands. Slapping his hands together he does a quick shake from his head down to lifting up on his toes before settling in on the bench.

“I can’t believe you called him a Mama’s boy to his face.” A Texas defensive man from the Big Twelve conference protests as he takes his place at the edge of the platform.

One of the other guys from the NE who had come up to the rail shrugs, “He is. And if my mama was Gia Campbell, the entertainment lawyer, I would be too. She’s hot.” His voice gets loud as he pounds on the platform. “Come on, Junior, show them how it’s done. Just push-ups, man!”

The commentators had heard the entire conversation and kept silent until just before the reps start. “I guess for a guy Junior’s size it would just be push-ups. Just using weights instead of his own mass.”

The slaps of the other players’ hands against the platform are a rhythm matching what Junior is doing. They aren’t calling out the count because the count is different from the number of lifts. A lift that isn’t properly executed doesn’t count. Any back arching lifts from the bench would dq the lift– feet have to be flat on the floor and back flat against the bench. Case is shaking his head even as he’s pounding on the platform. Junior isn’t going to lose any for form points though. The guy doesn’t even seem to be breathing hard. Not yet. At forty lifts there is a pause. Junior has already eclipsed everyone so far in the combine. If he can do 50 he would set a combine record.

“You done, son?” The spotter asks.

“Not quite.” Junior says between gritted teeth and then he roars and does a quick series of five, then he starts squeezing them out one by one. Now all the guys on the rail are counting them out and cheering him on. 

“46, 47...48, 49...50, Come on, Junior, you got this one; you got it! Come on, Junior...51!”

It’s at that point that the weight starts to shake on the uplift and the spotter has a hand in knowing that there isn’t going to be 52.

Junior sits up from the bench and looks out over the coaches and owners all of whom are now on their cell phones. It’s a good sign. Getting up he goes along the rail slapping hands with guys there and gives a pat on the back to the next guy up. It’s bull but it he says it anyway. “Bar’s got a nice handle on it. Cake to beat your best. Kick ass. I got a bet with Lemarr. If the defense doesn’t lift more than the offense I have to sing I’m a little teapot at the 50 yard line of Lucas Oil. And if I have to– you have to.”

“Did you know anything about a bet?” One commentator asks of the other.

“No, news to me.” The other is caught flat footed but it already pulling combine stats and his calculator to find out how much the offensive linemen in the combine had put up. “Junior put up 5.74 tons right there. With the defensive guys going last though, you have to figure they are going to have the advantage. They know the number to beat.” He keeps talking while pushing the buttons on the calculator filling time until they have the number.

“I think that the bet might have been a surprise to them too. Lemarr, that would be Lemarr Harris the stand out left guard out of Michigan. He put up 31 reps or 3 tons. I wonder what the bet was on his side.”

* * *

Cut back to current time, when there is a break in the action after the 40 yard dash and the Offensive line guys gather at the center of the field.

“I think we’re about to find out what that bet was.”

The defensive line guys gather around the herd of offensive linemen ready to hoot and heckle.

Lemarr Harris shakes his head but not one to welch on a bet starts the song. “The itsy bitsy spider went up the water spout...” Complete with hand movements.

“Now this is something that I believe has never been seen at an NFL draft combine.” One of the commentators laughs and shakes his head.

* * *

At a hotel near the stadium in one of the upper level suites, the suits from the Miami Dolphins compare notes. Leaning back on the couches they look at each other. “If he hadn’t come to the combine....”

“Wish in one hand and shit in the other.” The scout shakes his head. “I get it. Small school, defensive player, his mother is scarier than hell.. I get it. If he wouldn’t have been at the combine then we might have had a shot at him at six– maybe. I already saw Baltimore with their heads together with Atlanta.”

“That’s the four spot!” The owner announces what everyone already knows. “Two ahead of us!”

“And it wouldn’t be just to screw us. He’s got skills, he’s got locker room presence. They haven’t had a guy like him since Ray Lewis. And Junior has his head screwed on straight. No legal troubles. No personal drama. No legal troubles or personal drama on his side of the ball at PCU. That speaks to his leadership in the locker room.”

“Unless you count his girlfriend since highschool heading off to Europe to play soccer. That could be some drama.”

“He’s a legacy player. He isn’t going to have the same screw ups as the typical rookie. And it’s already out there that where ever he signs his grandmother is going to be living with him for at least the first year after what happened with Jesse his rookie year.”

“We’re going to have our balls to the wall where ever we take him, you know his mother is going to be going over the contract with a fine tooth comb and we can’t afford any hold outs. Not on something as important as this.” The owner looks around the room.

“You’re talking about taking the number one pick and negotiating a contract before the draft.”

“The only thing Detroit has going for them is their defense. They are going to need offensive players and a lot of them. Our six pick, a second round...” And then with a wince. “And Garrett Blankenship.” Garrett is a strong receiver with a short shelf life and a big bonus coming up. Garrett would normally make a stink but he’s from Detroit and lives there in the off season. For him being in Detroit would be looking toward his next career.

The director of player management nods. “I think I can play that. Couple of thirds if the pot needs sweetening?”

“That or a second round next year. But not both. And for Christ sake keep it quiet. If we can get this done and screw Baltimore too. I don’t have a problem with that.”

* * *

Last Week in April, Nashville, Tennessee-- Home of the Tennessee Titans and this year’s host for the NFL draft. The draft rotates around the United States normally to NFL towns but sometimes just to a city big enough to host the influx of people coming to see the draft and who might in the future be interested in a franchise. It’s an opportunity for fans to see the players who are going to be impacting the league for a decade to come at a ticket price a hell of a lot cheaper than a ball game. And with the rise of the fantasy leagues over the years each fan isn’t just a fan they have an opinion. They’ve done their research, and they are vocal. 

The order of selection is basically determined after the playoffs of the previous season with the teams with losing records getting first shot at the new guys coming in. Course those teams could also trade their pick to another team for impact guys who are already in the league. The Max length of contract is 5 years. The money is ridiculous, 60-70 million dollars with over half of that guaranteed for players taken in the top ten. If the player happens to be a quarterback or an offensive college star then the money is even higher. If taken in the second round then the money would be half or less than what the top guys are getting. By the time you get to rounds three through seven then the contracts are good but not generous and toward the end looking at the league minimum.

The draft organizers have an idea of who is going to be in the first round and have made all efforts to get them there with their families. For a lot of these young men this is the Golden Ticket what they’ve been working toward since peewee and pop warner. They may have had to borrow, beg or steal to be play over the years but now all that hard work and sacrifice is going to pay off. Now they’d finally be able to take care of their families, hopefully for the rest of their life. This is what putting up with the NCAA bs rules all through college has been for. The stage faces out to the audience, the fans and press. There are the flags of the various franchises hanging on the backdrop and a huge screen that will project the logo or the handshake between player and management with the jersey selection.

Back stage there are tables set up like a banquet with the prospective talent sitting with their family waiting for the young man’s name to be called. They all know the score as well. The sooner picked the greater the paycheck. Some players don’t want the fishbowl especially if they are the cusp between round one and two and watch the draft from home with a phone that nobody better be calling in on. The line has to be kept free for the phone call they’ve been waiting all their life for. They are covered by the local media who watch the draft with them and wonder when their hometown boy is going to be selected.

Junior Kahanalua is here in Nashville with his family: his father Jesse, his mother Gia Campbell, his grandmother Leilani, his little sister Melia, his girlfriend Mariah Radcliffe. Junior, unlike some of the other players, has never had to worry about where his next meal is coming from. His father had invested well his NFL salary over the years and his mother is at the top of her career as an entertainment lawyer. And from a practical standpoint, Junior is never going to starve as long as his grandmother is around. All of them are dressed in their Sunday best and are regularly featured as the hype of the draft and the cameras pan the back stage area. Junior, and the elders know something that the rest of the family don’t. That few do. This isn’t going to take long.

The announcer out front has finished his spiel and cuts to the meat of the matter. He announces, “... with the first pick of the NFL Draft– Detroit is on the clock. They have five minutes to make their selection.” The big stopwatch in the background starts to click down. The announcer is handed a card. He looks at it and then announces. “Detroit has traded their first selection with The Miami Dolphins. The Miami Dolphins with their first pick choose...” The announces grimaces. He knew this one was coming some time today and had been practicing. “...Kalikohemolele Kahanalua.” And just in case there was any doubts. “Junior Kahanalua is the first pick of the Miami Dolphins.”

The Miami fans in the audience go crazy. The Baltimore fans in the audience start groaning. It had already been leaked that Baltimore was going to try to jump Miami and get Junior. Evidently Miami had plans of their own.

Junior rises to his feet and gives his dad a hand shake and then hugs to all the women at the table before making his way to the front of the stage. In the wings he is handed a Dolphins ball cap and he puts it on. Walking out into the flashing lights and applause he meets the owner and coach of the Dolphins and shakes both of their hands. They offer him a Dolphins jersey and there is a photo op going even as the announcer is going on to the next team. “The Cleveland Browns are now on the clock. They have five minutes to make their selection.”

As soon as the photos are taken and Junior waves to the crowd especially the section of rabid Miami fans whose wishes just came true a half an hour early hopefully nobody had been at the concession stand and missed it. With the coach and owner he goes back to the press area.

Junior leans an ear toward the press as the first question comes. “I don’t know what Miami dealt in order to get the top spot. I only know when they got it which was actually about a month ago.”

He nods at the next question. “Contract is already signed. I’ll be reporting to rookie mini training camp next week ready to get to work. Kinda nice having it out of the way. We all kept quiet about it because football isn’t just a game played on the field. It’s played in the boardroom as well. Course the whole thing could have been blown if anyone had hacked my grandmother’s credit cards. She’s been in Miami for the last month figuring out where I’m going to be living. She didn’t complain too much about leaving her winter place in Hawaii. If she would have had to spend the last month in Port Charles or Buffalo or Green Bay... I’d be living at the Holiday Inn.”

Junior nods at the next question too. “Yeah, that’s true. Tutu agreed to come with me for the first year in the NFL. My dad said he had a rough time his first year with the adjustment and I’d rather focus on the game than the distractions. Course considering my father met my mother his rookie year for the Stallions I might be making a huge mistake.” He looks over at Mariah and gives her a wink.

If the cameras weren’t on them she’d give him the finger. If he thought he was going to be hooking up with ball bunnies who were looking for their own Golden Ticket. Well let him. Arrogant, Big headed, Big Footed, Ego Bound Jerk. He wanted to be a free agent he could be a free agent. But that’s a sword the cuts both ways....

Junior winces as he realizes that what he said could have been taken the wrong way. And it didn’t matter how big the couch, they never felt good the morning after being slept on. “It’ll definitely make it easier to have Tutu keeping things normal while Mariah is over in Europe working as we both adjust to our new schedules.”

“Junior, about your contract...”

Junior looks over to the owner of the team and gives him the floor.

“You okay with this?” The owner asks as an aside before stepping to the mike.

“It always ends up being public record anyway.” Junior shrugs.

“I got it from here.” The owner nods and covers the mike. “You’re going to want to give an indepth interview to the Herald– both the Port Charles and the Miami Dade. Refer the other media requests to the front office and we’ll get things lined up when you’re down in Miami.” 

“I’ll be there day after tomorrow and call the office.” Junior nods and heads back to the table where his family is waiting. The reporter from the Port Charles Herald is already there talking to his dad.

From the microphone stand the owner of the Dolphins gives the news of the contract on the top pic. “Five year, potentially 75 million. 45 Million guaranteed. No signing bonus. Junior’s contract has a lot of incentives built into it.”

One of the reporters. “Tackles, sacks and take aways?”

The owner nods. “Yes, and while I won’t get into specifics, I will say Junior is not a selfish player; it’s one of the reasons we worked so hard to get the number one pick and to get this contract hammered out before training camp. If Junior has a piece of a tackle or a sack and one of our guys gets the take away– there is an incentive for that. The contract is about him and the Miami defense.”

“Who is Junior’s agent? Who negotiated the contract?”

“As far as I know, Junior hasn’t signed with an agent. But he has connections to a hell of a law firm. His mother did not negotiate the contract but her partner Dara Jensen did. Dara Jensen and Gia Campbell used to do the legal work for the Port Charles Stallions and are very familiar with a sports contract...”

Over at the table. “Well a lot of fantasy leagues had you going with either Miami or Baltimore...” The reporter shakes his head. “I can’t believe everyone kept it quiet for so long.”

Junior reaches over and gives Mariah a kiss on the cheek. He can tell she’s ticked and he’s going to hear it later. While next to her ear he whispers. “Sorry. One question too many. You still talking to me?”

“Oh you aren’t going to be able to get me to shut up. But it’s going to be a private conversation.” Mariah hisses through gritted teeth. The Herald reporter might have heard her but anyone further away only sees the smile and the peck on the cheek.

“I figured.” Junior winces and takes the seat next to her. He takes her hand and holds it in an easy grip. He’s got some ground he needs to make up.

Melia winces too. She has the room next to theirs at the hotel. She is used to their arguments. Junior and Mariah are loud. And Mariah would win. She always did. It’s the way that Junior is wired. If Dad said something there is instant obedience; he’s got the voice and the presence. But there is no secret about who really runs things in their house and that is Mom and Tutu and it’s always been that way. The Radcliffe’s kind of ran things differently. Kyle and his Uncle Cole ruled their houses with no backtalk. It’s clear to anyone who knows them that they adore their wives and would do anything for them but neither Maxie nor Mrs Radcliffe would ever go against the edicts of their husbands. They just try to make sure that it never comes down to an edict. 

 

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End file.
